They had completed a circuit of the mansion before Roding’s frustration burst out. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. The shock and distress were genuine. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing.
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